


Minutes

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-17
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2019-02-02 01:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12716697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack finds himself with the time to reflect on how whoever said "The devil's in the details" really knew what they were talking about.





	Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

Life's funny sometimes...

Most people tend to think of it in terms of days, months and years. I know that I always have. When I was a kid, it was counting down the days until Christmas, my birthday, or summer break. When I became a teenager, it was the years and months until I'd be old enough to drive, to drink, to get out of my parents' house and start my own life. When I became an adult, it was years until graduation, next promotion, months of mission prep, days until I could see Sara and Charlie again. This is how I've always thought of it. Great spans of time that are important because they supposedly affect the course of your entire life. 

That's why it's such a shock for me to suddenly realize, sitting here with someone's life pouring out over my hands, the truth is that it really comes down to the minutes. Minutes of air needed to keep the heart pumping. Minutes of running wasted by my teammates, trying to get help. Minutes spent waiting, each one dragging by like decades, centuries, millennia. Concepts of time I don't think of or use very often, but which sure seem to apply here.

These minutes...that seem so inconsequential that most of us don't even give them a second thought. It's only when you have some of them to look back on and think that you start to see their scary little pattern.

Minutes...spent deciding on either the Air Force Academy or the University of Minnesota. Minutes considering, not really realizing the sacrifices inherent in a military life, only seeing the thrill and the glory. Requiring _later_ minutes...to decide if it was worth continuing on with it...for less flashier things like duty and honor.

Minutes...that _could_ have been used in a simple act of consideration, like picking up dirty clothes before Sara had to ask me for the second time. Minutes, that could have been used to say things like "I need you" or "You make me happy" or "It would hurt me deeply if I ever lost you." Minutes... that would have _taken_ so little, but overall, would have _meant_ so much.

Minutes...that could have been spent swallowing anger and explaining to a little boy why it upset me so much to see him with a toy gun. Minutes, that I _should_ have used to lock a gun safe...

Minutes...that took away my only son's potential for _years_. 

Whoever said "The devil's in the details" really knew what they were talking about, I guess. Details are such little things...little things like mailing birthday presents on time, before you get that phone call that says there'll be no more birthdays for mom or dad. Little things like telling someone what they mean to you, not taking it for granted that they already know. Little things like doing things when you think of it, not assuming that there'll be plenty of time to do them later. 

"Little things mean so much." God, another cliché. But then...I guess they don't _get_ to _be_ cliché's, if they weren't also _true_.

So now, here I am. Counting the minutes, and wishing I'd taken some of them to say something that it looks like I'll never get a chance to say. 

God...this is _so_ stupid. But if you're really out there, and you're actually listening, if you'd just give me some of those minutes back, I promise I'll never waste them again...

Wait a minute...(Ah, now _there's_ a phrase I'll never look at the same way again!) Houston, I think we have _movement_...

"Danny? You _with_ me, buddy?"

"Jack..." I never knew a whisper could sound so good. "Wha'—what happened?"

What happened? What always happens. Friendly natives that have lost their friendliness, thanks to the Goa'uld, decided they didn't like our looks and took some potshots. And of course, being the good guys, our only response was to retreat...

You know...there are days I really _hate_ being one of the good guys....

"Shhh...it's okay," I lie to him in my best _Hey, you took an arrow in the chest, but it's not bad_ voice. "Friendly natives weren't as friendly as we thought. But it's all right. Teal'c and Carter went for help. They'll be back soon."

He blinks at me and I'm not really certain that he processed _any_ of that information. He's got a definite _The lights are on, but nobody's home_ look right now. 

Finally...he says "...okay..." 

Then he goes to close his eyes again.

No, No, _NO_! Do _NOT_ do this to me again, Danny! Don't you _fucking_ dare!

"Danny? Daniel! Hey...look at me here, would you?! We're the _only_ ones in this whole God Damn cave. And I think it's really shitty of you to leave me here all alone like this. Always thought you had better manners than _that_ , Dannyboy!"

_YES_...that got him back. I've got blue eyes looking up at me again. But they're not really focused...and I can't help but think they're not going to be with me for very long...

_Minutes..._

_Danny..._

"I love you." That's all I say. I'm scared to say anything else. It might waste time...and _this_ is what I _need_ him to hear _right now_.

It only takes a minute...but I get the feeling that those blue eyes suddenly _focused_ on me, actually _heard_ what I was trying to say... 

Then they slipped closed again, unable to bear wasting the energy to keep them open any longer, energy that's obviously needed elsewhere right now.

His heart still beats. His lungs still work. And I'm suddenly aware that we're both bargaining for minutes now—I pray, he fights—I just hope that between us, we get them. Because I really, really _want_ those minutes, God. I want them more than I've ever wanted anything else. It can't cost you much to give them to us, could it? You're the Big Guy, the Head Honcho, the Big Cheese. What could minutes mean to you, up where you're at?

They're just _little_ things, after all...


End file.
